


Spilling light unearthly from the waters of the Fade

by Niedosytnix



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accidental Bondage, Altar Sex, Because Elves, Captivity, Chantry Sex, Discovering new kinks and recovering old ones, Dual POV, Elf Takes Elf, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ex-SexGod!Solas, F/M, Female Ejaculation, First time this side of the veil, Fluff and Smut, I'm not sorry for this one, Impregnation, Involuntary Sensory Deprivation, Kidnapping, Kinda like what I did while writing this, Kinda?, Magic inhibition, Making The Best of a Bad Situation, Masturbation, Minor Violence, Ok maybe a little shame, Porn With Plot, Primal Mores, Regression, Ritual Public Sex, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Some level of Dubious Consent, Talking yourself into being ok with things you feel ashamed of, That's their kink, Weird conception magic, Worship gone weird, Yeah how about you go back to dragon worship, playing fast and loose with dreamers and tranquility, sex in chains, sex with an audience, so much blasphemy, sorta size kink, wildly making shit up again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7875673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niedosytnix/pseuds/Niedosytnix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls.
From these emerald waters doth life begin anew.<br/>
Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you.
In my arms lies Eternity.

-Andraste 14:11</p><p>Revas Lavellan and Solas are kidnapped by a devout cult that has interpreted the anchor as the well of all souls. They demand the Herald of Andraste to produce an heir with her lover as the Maker's chosen.  </p><p>Then they get into it.</p><p><i>REALLY</i> into it.</p><p>Ex-Sexgod thinking he's still capable of being a sexgod but now everything is different and it's overwhelming.</p><p>Tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spilling light unearthly from the waters of the Fade

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know from what depths of my mind I pulled this, but these ideas just keep getting weirder. Has this been done? /shrug. Don't think too hard about it, I know I won't. PS: This isn't a _'he wants it but doesn't want it/can't have it and makes sure it doesn't happen in the end'_. He gives in, come what may, probably. (Though that's not to say I won't leave it open-ended so you can believe he reneged on this later if you wish. It was tempting to write- I am a heartless angst beast- simply just trying to be nice this time.)
> 
> This was supposed to only be 3k words, then I read a thing about 'unpacking' your writing... and here we are. So this is sort of a writing experiment- one likely to infect my other works if it pans out. Blame somebody. idk it's not like I needed to get EVEN MORE WORDY. /sigh.
> 
> I can only imagine the Canticle they would write about this.
>
>> And she cried out for His mercy,  
> Veiled hand raised in supplication.  
> "Sire your child in the emerald waters  
> Of my soul!" Her lover joined her  
> Worshipful repose, "You will carry  
> my child before the light dies this day."  
> And thus they ensured the Maker's will  
> Endured in the vessel of their souls.
>> 
>> -Herald 6:9
> 
> /snort
> 
> Fluid POV shifts, let me know if it gets confusing.  
> Bit of a rough start for smut. Bear with me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PSSSST: _a bunch_ (half?) many of the more 'interesting' tags show up in next chapter's smutfest. This one is largely setup w/smut/their first time _'together'_.
> 
> Maybe subject to minor editing, as usual, but probably not.  
> (You know, in case I discover something like the fact I've apparently been indiscriminately using 'discrete' in place of 'discreet' this whole time. Fuck.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [10/21] - Added 3k words to the end from the next chapter. They fit better here, and that one is running stupidly long so- to even them out.

His eyes lay opened wide, fearfully unseeing, absent of their ageless wisdom, their knowing warmth. Slate grey placid pools stared through her instead of the ever-shifting midnight waters. His pale skin ashen, sweat soaked and chilled to the touch where his hands gripped her sun-kissed form with white-knuckle contrast, with all the strength left in his unexplainably brittle form. It hurt to look at him, but more than that it absolutely terrified her. Solas shook beyond control, and Revas feared he’d shake apart entirely if she let the anchor leave his cheek, it helped somehow so it stayed- anchoring them both as she fought to understand what in the void had happened to land them here.

'Here' was a damp musty cell. Dirt encrusted worn stones beneath them set a chill to ache its way through her bare legs. It certainly couldn't help Solas' unexplained condition. With effort, she shifted his upper body to her lap, allowing him to instinctively wrap his arms tight about her waist, his head laid against her thigh. Hoping it helped warm him as they were distressingly undressed. She had only a scratchy linen shift, Solas at least had the benefit of a bland sleeveless tunic and threadbare trousers. But that was not exactly _all_ they wore. The dim light of a far off torch did nothing to illuminate the cold weight that clung to her ankle, the dull march of metal links when she shifted, but it wasn’t needed to know what it was. The device was sinister somehow, and the closer it was to the rest of her body, the sicker she felt. Dizzy, nauseous, and it wasn't difficult to ascertain why... She was cut off from the Fade, the sense of mana was gone, and where the heavy cuff of metal at her ankle got too close to the anchor in her palm it made her profoundly weak. It had to be the cause.

Solas had one too. Her gaze fell back down to him. The brilliant verdant light of her left hand spilled across his eyes, illuminating them with a shifting emerald glow that almost brought life back to his gaze. He was now staring at the anchor intently, could he… recognize it? Was whatever it was inhibiting their magic the reason for his state? Did cutting a dreamer off from the Fade...

_No. Don't think about that._

Instead she turned her thoughts towards the last thing she remembered, wrapping her unanchored arm around his broad shoulders, idly gazing down the long line of empty cells through the bars of their own.

They'd been heading back to Skyhold at a leisurely pace after a successful excursion in the Western Approach, skirting the softer edge of the Emerald Graves, keeping the grim ageless forest to their right, the sloping landscape into sparse abandoned farmholds on the left. Camp had been set in the shadowed shelter of the ancient wood, the last stretch before they turned away to follow the small river back to the road that skirted the highlands of the Dales. It had been a relatively quiet day, they met no one, and only one weak Fade rift and a bear far larger than it had any right to be crossed their path. Dorian and Bull were 'on watch' which was now known to all to be little more than code for a chance to fool around in the relative safety that came with a low chance of encounters. Which meant she and whomever else she brought along tended to make themselves somewhat scarce. Bull was neither quiet, nor discreet in his affections, much to the enduring well-loved blush that lingered hours after on Dorian's face. She was happy for them, truly, yet happier to not overhear the things they did- Which meant she often wound up a fair distance from camp on nights like that.

However, this time had been different. Solas took up her hand without her initiating, his thumb absently rubbing across her knuckles. A hesitance hitched his step as he quietly bade her to walk with him. It put a smile on her face to not have to drag him off for once. A plan had been clearly on his mind though he seemed nervous, unsure about something. She calmed her own nerves- this wasn't the first time she'd seen him like this and the outcome of such a walk had pleasantly surprised her before. He was a curiosity, one she loved endlessly. He guided their relationship so slowly, yet so anxiously that it had her considering it might be his first time, but then he always surprised her.

His confidence had grown with each step along the quiet river bank, slowing to a saunter as they came upon a shaft of moonlight filtering through the far off canopy. He'd turned to her, a spark of something more in his eyes, a small smile played about his lips as he lifted her hand to bow low. Oh, how she had grinned- Graciously accepting his offer to dance with a feigned curtsey.

Vivienne and Josephine had forced her to practice and practice for hours a day for the impending ball. And just when she became the most flustered with the instruction, when she thought of giving up- that's when she would see him, leaned against the doorway to the rotunda, watching with a wistfulness she couldn't place.

He took up her waist, a hand resting heavily at the small of her back, he stepped and it was second nature to follow. He was amazingly well practiced, each step led her surely, his hands on her far more familiar than the formal instruction she had endured. It was as telling as the 'scandalous' lack of space between them. And it was beautiful to her, from the way the light caught his eyes, the fondness in his smile, to the pride in his lead. Though, she had expected something to shatter at any moment as they turned slowly over moss covered stone. Perhaps herself? Brittle- she had felt fragile under that intense gaze, that loving gaze- Fleeting, sorrowful like she might disappear in the blink of an eye. The sensation fled before his lips, the kiss that made her real again.

The kiss that quickly wanted to become _more_.

A thick Orlesian accent oozing its way through the musty air snapped her from her memory to the sight of a wizened woman drawing near, postured proudly, slightly showing the burden of age, swathed in unfamiliar designs of red and white that were unmistakably some sort of garb of the Chantry. Was that what this was? The bowels of a Chantry? That might explain how those two untainted Templar hunters had taken them by surprise. Perhaps dissenters within the-

"Herald of blessed Andraste, champion of her light-

"What have you done to Solas?!"

Annoyance briefly surfaced before the wrinkled veneer of calm slipped into place once more. Clipped words fletched from thinned-tight lips, "We are dampening his magic, out of necessity. Magic is meant to serve, but you will have no need of it here. You are well protected, Herald."

She scowled as the woman launched her monologue once more, who the hell did this lady think she was?! "-champion of her light, well of all souls-"

"He is a _DREAMER!_ **YOU CANNOT CUT HIM OFF COMPLETELY!!"**

The old woman's grace slipped, hands clasped tightly in front of her. "His magic is a threat to your safety, as was yours. Threat to the safety of us all. He must be bound to serve as you must serve."

"Serve? Serve what? I _cannot_ believe this! Why did you kidnap us?! For what reason?!"

"We do not require your faith. You are the vessel. You will bear the child of the Maker, and the child will believe. _That_ , we will ensure. We brought the apostate as a courtesy. As Andraste's chosen we have decided to trust that the Maker wishes you to conceive an elven child with this man. And the Maker _must_ have a voice on Thedas."

Her jaw had dropped some time ago as incredulity made itself prominent across her face. "W-what? A… Are you... You're _serious_.” She sat completely astonished, scrambling to reason out the woman’s bizarre declaration. The woman looked entirely serious. “Did you not hear what happened at Adamant? I'm not even Andraste's chosen! It was the _Divine_ that saved me!"

"And who do you think sent the Divine?"

Oh. _Wonderful_. This was going to be like arguing with a wall. Before she could launch her retort, the crone barreled onward.

"Andraste died with disputed heirs, whose lineage today is untraceable at best, exaggerated lies at worst. The mark on your hand is a portent, the well of all souls, and from its emerald waters doth life-"

_"WHO ARE YOU?!"_

The crone's composure fractured entirely, that self-righteous smile fell with her hands to her sides, a severe look absorbed her face. "I am the Matron of this Chantry. That is _all_ that concerns you now. I had hoped you would share in the Maker's light, in his plan for you. I see that we must carry out his will against yours. The Herald MUST have an heir. Your Worship must conform to the Maker's will."

Her battle with patience was long since up, this woman was clearly crazy. The manners Josephine had instilled in her crumbled completely before her anger, scathing her words. "Oh and let me guess... I'm supposed to hide away here for oh what, the next year? I assume you won't let me leave until this 'child' has been born- so tell me _who_ is going to close the rifts? _Who_ is going to save your Empress? And **WHO** is going to _**STOP CORYPHEUS?!**_ ”

"The Maker's will is clear-" she groaned loudly, palming her face as the woman continued, "-your path is to conceive as soon as possible, should you die without an heir the world will be thrown into chaos greater than the trials we now face. _For I have seen it_. Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."

The woman droned on as a pair of Templars appeared at her side from out of the shadows. The door to their cell opened and but for a second she wondered why- more chains burdened their grasp. _Ah_. Had she played along, perhaps that wouldn't have been necessary? _'Shit. Good job Revas.'_ Panic tore through her inner sarcasm as they pulled Solas away to roughly shackle his wrists, and then hers. Her attempt to reach her heart was roughly subdued in a crushing metal grasp. A pained cry fell from her bruised lip and went unanswered as she was pinned roughly to the dirt. The heavy chain at her ankle was set loose from the malicious cuff that remained. _Something_ , she had to do **something** \- she didn't want to face this alone.

"And those who slept, the ancient ones, awoke, for their dreams had been devoured by a demon that prowled the Fade as a wolf hunts a-"

"If you want him to do what you brought him here for then he needs the Fade!" The crone froze, the Templars followed suit- the slits of their helmets honing in on their master. "He needs the connection. T-the Maker chose him for me. He is different from normal mages. A-ascended."

"Have you reconsidered your manners? Are you telling me you will submit to the will of the Maker?"

She swallowed roughly as the Templar allowed her to sit up, fighting the urge to roll her eyes and spit out the taste of bile those words left in her mouth, offering a shallow nod instead. _No you batty old fool._ "Yes, if you will _help_ him." She made herself look pitiful, repentant, bringing her bound hands together, shifting to her knees in shemlen prayer- and _begged_ the woman to free Solas.

They always wanted to believe, always. That was their flaw and she hoped this Matron suffered of it as well.

The Matron gazed at her for several gut-churning seconds, and a fear grew that she misjudged the woman. Relief came in the form of a sudden sharp nod and the Templars set to work on his ankle, adjusting the inhibitor, careful to shield its mechanisms from her view- as if she could stand to touch the thing without passing out. A shaky sigh left her. Now all she needed was an opening. An opening _other_ than the open arms that rose upward to greet her with that sickly singsong tone that crawled beneath her skin.

“The one who repents, who has faith, unshaken by the darkness of the world, She shall know true peace. Rise child. Come, and walk this path of purpose with me." She got to her feet warily, glancing to where Solas now hung limp between the two Templars, his head rolled with their shuffling steps. A groan surfaced that came on the heels of a pronounced scowl. That was as good a sign as any.

She stepped closer to the Matron, eyes downcast as she neared. A chilled hand tipped her chin upward and fell away. The simpering thinly veiled malice that met her gaze was suddenly too much to abide. She _snapped_ , brought her wrists together and whipped the length of the chain between them hard at the Matron's face. The woman dropped like a stone and the last thing she saw was her failure as the old woman struggled to sit up, a brilliant bloody bruise already blooming across the crone’s eyes.

Darkness overcame her with a sharp pain at her temple.

~~=~~

_It hurt._

What hurt? Her pride, her head. _Everything_. Of that she was certain as nothing else but the pain felt ... _real_. She breathed slowly but could not hear it. Her eyes opened a crack, but she saw only darkness. Terror flooded her with an icy chill as she tried to steel herself for the worst. Moving one hand immediately tugged at the other, her wrists were bound tight with no give. Apparently there was no longer a chain between them, manacled together directly instead. She mumbled, or so she hoped, "Great job Revas, you managed to make things worse." _Worse_ , that was something she tried not to consider further within the obvious void of Solas’ presence in her small silent dark kingdom. Discreetly, she felt for her eyes first, they seemed normal, intact. Then she felt for her ears, lightly tapping with her fingers to no avail. She took a long slow breath, reaching for reason. That she could still discern darkness seemed like a good sign, remembering that if they'd truly blinded her then she'd perceive 'nothing' according to her granpapa. It must be a spell, blood magic or perhaps a poison? In other words, reversible, which meant her hearing was likely subject to the same. It tasted of punishment. Apparently they'd not taken well to her attempted rebellion. In her anger she'd completely forgotten the Templars, her temper was going to get her killed one day... though it seemed not today, not _yet_ anyway.

She took a moment to assess her surroundings with what sense she still had, fairly certain she was in a different place now, pleasantly warm, dry, a stiff mattress against her bare skin instead of damp stone. She seethed at the thin lumpy pad as if it was to blame for her predicament. It hadn't escaped her notice that she smelled of something vaguely offensive. A light airy scent Josephine would describe as 'floral' that stung deep inside her nose, making her eyes water. As if flowers smelled like such an assault on the senses. It seemed she had been washed and was now completely naked. The scratchy linen shift was gone. As subtly as she could manage, she shuffled her limbs, further expanding her limited awareness. The tether was now at her wrists instead of her ankle, though the inhibitor was still firmly in place. She experimentally tugged at her chain, there was a weight that tugged back- it seemed her hands were still bound to ... _something_. She cautiously gathered her legs beneath her, shifting to sit up, feeling about for anything she could use to divine what was happening.

The weight at her wrists suddenly went slack and panic reached through her with a startled flinch as someone embraced her slowly. The searing heat of bare skin steadily engulfing her drove her to struggle against the unmistakably _male_ form that conquered her with... with _care_? He pressed his brow to hers and she froze... It felt like Solas, that was _his_ gesture, were they still chained together? Was he awake? She tried to form the sounds for his name, but she couldn't be sure it came out right. He nodded slowly, an exaggerated motion against her that had her nodding with him. Her attempted words caught, choked with emotion in her throat, "I can't hear-" he nodded again, a shackled hand raising up caressing up her throat. He tapped a single finger three times, grabbing her attention, her brow furrowed as he began to draw. She missed the meaning at first, but he repeated the gesture and letters began to surface against her skin. "K-n-o-w. Know? You know?" Another nod and a feather-light kiss pressed to her lips. He continued slowly as she mouthed the letters as they grew into words.

[Vhenan-they-want-me-to...] His fingers stilled, lightly fidgeting against her pulse as he fought for what to say.

She nodded, "They want you to-” She swallowed roughly, “Impregnate me." He nodded against her, the rush of his breath fanned over her lips.

A highly embarrassed heat rose on her face at her unfortunate pause, making it feel as though it was her own demand. She sighed as well, afraid to venture anything more. They hadn't even talked about sex, let alone anything like this. Solas seemed to wish to set a slow pace for them, and she didn't mind. They had shared dreams but not their bodies, not yet anyway- though she had a feeling that might have been what was going to happen that night in the clearing. _If_ they hadn't been taken. Or at least she had _hoped_. He broke off her thoughts with a touch, [It-may-hurt.] Her breath hitched slightly, then... He would go through with it? Though she supposed he didn't have much of a choice. "What do you mean hurt?" His face shifted against hers with a hard swallow, his hands dropped to find hers, a reassuring squeeze before he guided her hands to his chest. She splayed her palms against his skin. The tremor of his life beating strongly beneath her fingers was calming, grounding. His hands grew heavy, their weight leading downward and she followed the valleys and hills of his muscles, bunched and folded as he sat hunched over, knowing suddenly where this journey was going to end. Anticipation sharpened her senses. His guidance paused before the end of their trail, and she knew he would not force her to go further by his hand. Seeking with her fingers she mapped the rest of her quest alone, finding a wealth of soft skin leading to the base of his already hardening erection. Fingers lightly trailing up his length, tentatively mapping his member, she held her breath as it twitched to stiffness against her palms, fairly certain the sound she made as she exhaled in a rush had been some variation of _"OH."_ He was not fully hard, but even so she could feel how large he must be. Her fingers barely touched her thumb when she wrapped them around his shaft, and the shaft itself appeared to be a bit longer than her hand. She stroked slowly upward with more pressure, feeling his soft delicate skin roll with her touch, her fingers reuniting at the rounded tip. She cupped it with one hand, maneuvering her other to stroke down his shaft, gingerly pulling back his foreskin as far as her bound wrists would allow. Her eyes widened at the already abundantly slicked surface that met her palm, and a heavy breath washed over her cheek as he leaned into her, a slight vibration through the bridge of his nose at her temple, a moan? Could he be ok with this? Did he want... Did he want her to continue? Or was this an involuntary reaction? She fought to parse such sparse information as his hands found her hips, squeezing slightly. Was that a yes? Tenuously, she repeated the gesture, gently massaging the sensitive tip and his lips found hers once more. There was a brazen hunger to his kiss that she had not felt in him since their dream of Haven. Heat bloomed in her core as want began to flood her remaining senses. His hands quickly left her hip, his mouth left hers with reluctance, lips lingering just out of reach. A shadow of their presence sent a shiver through her as his fingers carefully drew out more letters. [Will-you-allow-me?]

Was that the plan? To play along? Wait for an opening to escape? Or did he wish for her consent despite neither of them being in a position to truly have it? She didn't dare speak aloud, he wouldn't do this so hastily, not like this, they must not be alone. She gave a sharp nod, reasoning to herself weakly that she had wanted this before, that she had wanted to know him intimately for a while now. Without being able to see or hear perhaps she could try to pretend they were somewhere different... and she did not wish to lose more of herself by being disobedient... After all- for what they wanted of her, she did not need to be conscious. The rest of it would have to be sorted out later.

The world unexpectedly tipped, Solas' strong hands coaxed her to her back. Shallow breaths left her as he shifted over her, a thigh slid between hers, then another. A gentle nudge coaxing her wider, she twitched to the sensation of the cold chain that spanned his wrists falling across her waist, _oh_ but his hands were _so_ warm. She wished she knew where to stare, unsure how it must look to him, her gaze surely blank and settling too far away from his. Perhaps it was best that she shut her eyes.

A noise reverberated unbidden from her throat as the length of his sizeable cock suddenly settled against her folds. His continued haste was unlike him, was it his own? Or ...were they _still_ out there? Threatening him? _Would they watch?!_ He rocked against her, dragging her from higher thought, frictionless in the newly gathered evidence of her arousal. Jutting upward to rub against the small nub, his measured thrusts coated himself in her slick with long strokes that had her whimpering. His length caught against her entrance and she tensed. The stalemate stretched slowly as he settled himself more surely over her, his cock shifted with his movements allowing the slickened head to pop just inside the ring of her tensed muscles. His hands dimpled the already defeated mattress on either side of her head, the chain draped over her neck. In the face of the storm to come she was but a small ship anchored at low tide, completely at the unlikely mercy of the impending surge. Yet still she begged the waters to rise, felt out his name with her mouth, entreating.

_And then he pressed inwards._

Arched with each shallow thrust, she wanted more than anything to see him leaned over her, to commit to memory the way his muscles would bunch and flex with his efforts, to gaze upon the heated expression he might wear, to hear the sounds of their joining. He steadily worked himself deeper, careful to withdraw as he met resistance to thrust again. Heels dug into the useless mattress, she found no meaningful purchase as she fought to relax around him, but he was too large and she was not ready enough. A stab of pain shot upward to her navel, harshly painting her pleasure as he caught dry on the next thrust. Struggling to accept him anyways, she must have made a telling sound or pulled a pained face as he stilled immediately, waiting for her to adjust.

Then the chain lifted from her neck- he sat up hastily, still partially joined to her. Rhythmic vibrations, walking? Someone with heavy boots? Something that felt like a bang followed by closer thuds as she flinched. He painted hasty letters against her thigh, [Relax]. He withdrew from her slightly as the vibrations receded with another bang that shook the floor through the thin mattress. She cried out as chilled hands probed her slit, his length. Coating the both of them in the frigid substance, it was slick and the smell of something vaguely herbal met her senses. Solas took his time applying the salve to her. The pain forgotten, their apparent audience forgotten as his fingers found her clit, gently rubbing, rolling, teasing as he nudged back the hood. Bestowing her with a direct, nearly frictionless caress, he soon had her arching into his touch. His hands stilled abruptly, his fingers quickly tracing why under the pretense of wiping the salve from his hands, [Ir-abelas-they-want-haste.]

She masked her nod as an effort to resettle herself and he settled back over her. Threading her bound arms through his, Solas encouraged her to loop her wrists behind his neck, the cold links of his chain graced her throat once more. She cried out with his first thrust, leaving him deeper than he had yet been, the next was more forceful, filling her- _oh how he filled her_. The salve sent him into a smooth rhythm as he forced her wide around him, working deeper with greater ease. It almost hurt, even with the substance aiding his entry, so tight was she around him, so hard was he- something had to give and she knew deep with the aching tug in her core it was her. Her eyes long opened, rolled back at the sensation, at the intense pleasure of the emptiness that suddenly existed to be filled so thoroughly. All that survived in her dark and quiet world was the way his body made hers sing, two blades struck together. Her nerves arcing with sensation so potent she could almost see it- pathways of light in the dark. His movement ceased as she felt the press behind her navel, as his end met hers. Solas pinned his hips tightly to hers, allowing her a moment to adjust that she largely ignored. Her hips hitched upward against his, begging for movement. The sudden press of his stomach against her, steadily rolling upward to his chest stilled her. The expanse of his lean form weighed against hers fogged her thoughts and cultivated a hotter rush of blood in her cheeks, he had her, completely. She stared straight ahead, certain that somehow her gaze met his. The trend of slow collision continued and culminated with his lips asking in their familiar quiet language for hers to open. She let him in and right then knew he would not leave- his mouth, his hands were all that were familiar to her, all that were uniquely Solas. The steps of this dance were known to her, and he led its waltz with passionate confidence. His kiss grew hungry, a tremor of movement shot through him, preceding his thigh hooking under hers, wordlessly coaxing her to lift her leg over his back. The effort it took to lift one leg, then the other had her involuntarily flexing her core, earning her an equally compulsorily stuttering thrust. Thought fled. Whatever it was that held back his restraint shattered with the rolling of his hips. And he didn't leave her, even his hips stayed close as he pumped feverishly into her, unable or unwilling to withdraw more fully, her core tightening with each thrust as tension mounted low in her belly. Solas accepted her sounds and she became blind desperation, wanting to hear the tone of the vibrations she felt in response with her tongue against his.

His palms bracketed her face. Thumbs smoothing over her cheekbones, his hindered plunging thrusts grew more uneven. She readjusted her bound hands around the back of Solas' neck to run her nails down his bare scalp, earning her a violent shiver and another chorus of vibration. Her body writhed at the new sensation nearly lost to their sweat slickened efforts, he felt impossibly larger, hitting differently inside her, rubbing heavily against the spot that made her weak. Her thighs shook, his thrusts grew harsh. Flexing her core upward, she reached for the release that threatened to take her away- that remained just beyond her grasp when he shuddered from his rhythm completely. His hips crashed to hers, and she felt his moan in her mouth, shock coursed through her with the potent throb of his cock as he twitched inside her. The sound she made must have been laden with her desperation as he immediately began to rock his hips against her mound, slowly pressing against the bundle of nerves that bound her in tension tighter than her chains.

On the last slow thrust and throb Solas set her free. Rolling waves of pleasure ebbed from him through her, tingling to the tips of her fingers as she unraveled beneath him. Her thighs tightened around his narrow waist while she rut frantically upwards against his tensed form. And just like that her body was gone, lost to pleasure as she transcended, nothing more was she than the spirit he so loved. He broke off the kiss at last to suck sharp marks into her throat- tying her back to him momentarily but then his mouth left her as he shifted abruptly, canting her hips to elevate them. She froze in the ebb of her pleasure as she crashed back to physicality, the reason for their joining resurfacing. A foreign spark of weightlessness flipped her stomach. A small gasp left her as his fingers drew her fractured attention, discreetly painting a trail across her sweat soaked skin, and her pleasure hazed mind caught enough letters to fill in the rest.

They were still watching, and they were _dead serious_ about conception.

~~=~~

_Thrill._

It had been thrill that shot through her when he took her hips, elevating them to keep his seed from spilling from her. His cock had begun to soften inside her, but that one gesture led to thoughts that had her arousal sustained long after he withdrew, long after he rolled her to her side and settled at her back. Amid chains and arms she could not resist the thought of being bound to him in other ways. Unwise though it may be- harsh reality did absolutely nothing to stop the images of being marked, claimed by her serious scholar.

Was it that no one had ever spent themselves within her before? Her past encounters had preferred to pull out last minute to spill over her body, her back, her stomach, and that one demeaning time, without warning on her face. Was it that the act somehow felt more satisfying that he had done what they had not? That she had been able to intimately feel the climax of his pleasure? Or was it simply the danger of what their efforts might create? She found no immediate answers- though the apex of her thighs remained slick with more than just his seed that was finally allowed egress, even despite the way she discreetly clenched in a futile attempt to hold it in. Her face burned with the heat of shame and she hoped Solas wouldn't notice the creep of its influence up her ears. Thrill flooded her veins once more and she quietly panicked to the unrelenting visions of her body changing in his care, growing heavy with his gift. Her heart beat as though in a rush to end its constant march and that was just fine with her. He would surely notice her runaway pulse curled as he was against her. She could not afford to think like that, could not afford to desire such things. Who knew how long their fight would demand her life, who knew if she would even survive? She didn’t even know if he would welcome such things, hell she didn't even know where _she_ stood on the matter. She bit her lip and shoved that unasked for longing away, hoping the rampant infertility of their people kept them safe.

Her new definition of quiet stretched onwards. Only soft breaths disturbing the small hairs down the back of her neck, his pulse rising up to shake her with the deep rise and fall of his chest broke the stillness. The floor had stopped vibrating some time ago, perhaps they were alone now? Tension slowly drained from her and she finally let herself enjoy Solas' embrace, attempting not to dwell on the fact that if they made it out of this alive, there was a very real possibility whatever happened here would ruin what they had. Without much to distract her it was difficult but she managed for a time.

[How-do-you-feel?]

Her nose scrunched with what was likely a snort and hopefully not a grunt. How did she feel? Hurt, tired, afraid to be so vulnerable, ashamed, still far too aroused. But the way he held her... It was comforting. For a first time it should have been a good thing, to finally share her body with him, but for being forced to by a crazed madwoman and her goons. Still, to her it did not detract much from what they shared without the reminder of what _'they'_ wanted. 'Satisfied' seemed in poor taste, 'good' seemed like a lie, 'I've been better' was a humor unlikely to be well received. She settled for "Sore."

It was perhaps the wrong thing to say. His scowl forming against her neck was rather pronounced, [ir-abelas.] She shook her head, "No, not that. It's not your fault, vhenan'ara. I was handled roughly before. I think I was hit in the head." He kept his silence.

She ventured tenuously, "What about you? How... How do you feel?"

He didn't answer. Perhaps he didn't know what to say to that. Or perhaps he expected she just would not appreciate his answer. She sighed, finally accepting his non-answer, opening her mouth to ask something different when words danced across her skin. [Better-than-I-felt-before.]. Well, it seemed she should have gone with humor. Though apparently they were both content to avoid mentioning what just happened. _'Great.'_ She thought, _'That could only end well.'_

"Are we alone?" She felt him nod. "Do you have a plan? And what happened before?" A light sigh tickled her neck, his hands gently took up her unanchored palm to write upon. The sensitive skin there lent itself well to the purpose, allowing him to write faster with her understanding. [Not-a-good-one-it-will-take-time,] surfaced against her skin, [They-threatened-to-replace-me-with-another. A-human-if-I-did-not-hurry-to-comply. That-the-child-of-the-Maker-should-be-human. Forgive-me-vhenan. I-could-not-let-that-happen-to-you.]

She had been afraid of that. "I do not blame you Solas." He pulled her in closer. His arms wrapped tighter, his nose pressed to her neck. Only the foreign feel of chains sliding across their bare skin served to unsettle her as he relented to write more. [Thank-you-for-freeing-me. Being-cut-off-from-the-fade-completely-] a long pause ensued as his hand squeezed hers [-it-was-crippling] A pause. [Agony] Another. [Your-presence-] He trailed off.

She shook her head lightly as a slight resonance resurfaced through the stone floor. She made an attempt to whisper her words, "It was the least I could do to help you Solas."

He laid his fingers lightly over her lips, then back to her palm, [The-guard-is-near-again.] He paused with a deep breath down her neck. [They-told-me-they-took-your-senses-in-exchange. That-you-fought-them.] She nodded, feeling his lips press against her neck. [Lay-low-with-me-for-now-vhenan. Play-along-help-is-coming-for-us-thanks-to-you.]

She nodded, immensely relieved- he must have dreamt, reached out to someone while she was unconscious. He tapped her lips lightly. She spoke in what she hoped was something of a whisper, "Alone?" He nodded. "Were they really watching us?"

He nodded again, [Yes-and-no. They-watched-but-not-for-the-act. They-were-worshiping-you... And-the-life-they-hoped-we-would-create.]

She shivered.

A small kiss bloomed against her neck, [Yes-I-agree.] She wasn't entirely sure with which part he agreed with. He still skirted the issue, yet asked her to play along? Was that all it had been? An act? Her heart sank involuntarily, the pinprick of despair surely giving her voice qualities she did not wish to betray.

"What if, what if I..." She swallowed hard. [What-if-you-do-conceive?] She nodded sharply, holding her breath. [We-can-worry-about-that-later-vhenan.] Her breath left her in a rush. _That_ was a terrible answer. Then again perhaps it was the only one he had at the moment. But that didn't make it helpful.

~~=~~

_Foul._

Her mood, the smell of strange food in the air, the ghost of rough hands, the scent of that horrid soap on her bare skin. For several terrifying minutes she and Solas had been separated, stripped of all but their inhibitors, basically commanded to void their bowels over a chamber pot and harshly scrubbed down with cold water. Or so his fingers confirmed once she was brought back to their mattress, chained together at the ankle once more. An infuriatingly short chain graced her manacled wrists, but it was a small relief nonetheless. The delicate skin of her wrists had already chaffed raw from being bound so awkwardly. It still stung sharply each time she shifted.

The tray from Solas' finger's portent was laid out before them, his narration cut off as a cup was thrust harshly into her hands, the warm liquid inside sloshed over her fingers and she felt the steps recede. She took a tentative sniff of the cup, recoiling at the cloying scent it gave off. Shouting after their current jailer, "What is it? Tell me what this is!" Solas took up her free hand briefly, [for-fertility]. Her breath hitched hard in her chest and she hurled the cup without another thought. Thunderous vibrations drew close in a hurry as Solas threw his arm across her, pushing her backwards behind him. She froze pinned between him and the wall, waiting for some blow to fall _or worse_ , for Solas to be wrenched away from her. Yet, it appeared nothing happened save for quieter steps receding, returning, leaving once more.

Solas turned to her, coaxed her to sit up against the smooth stone wall. Her hand curled around his words, her lip bitten hard in grimace. [Please-drink-it-vhenan, I-do-not-wish-to-see-them-hurt-you.] There was a pause before he divulged why that encounter had been so threatening, [Good-aim]. The tin cup was settled into her open palm, his fingers curled hers closed around it, and she stifled a sob. Wanting nothing more than to hurl the cup again she instead brought it to her lips, trusting her heart as she downed the vile honeyed liquid. A violent shiver shot through her, the drink was as sickly sweet as it’s scent, with an undernote of potent herbs. Solas relieved her of the cup as her skin grew flushed and her heart raced. She brought her knees up to her chin looping her bound arms around them as she tried to calm down.

Solas rubbed absently at the raised welt across his cheek where the Templar had struck him instead of her. His patience was wearing thin of playing the humble apostate while his agents and their companions took their time finding them, he'd dozed off twice now and they were not as close to finding them as he'd like. Dorian and Bull were closest, naturally, the Qunari had some skill in tracking but without knowing their exact location he could do nothing more than wait and convey in dreams what clues he gleaned. The advisors and a company of scouts, several of them _his_ , rode from Skyhold, but they were still half a day's ride away- at his best guess. If only he had not woken so weak, if only he had more than the barest breath of magic, if only he wasn't bound. The sound of a deep shuddering breath brought him back to her, his heart. His short-tempered lover, bare before him save for the mantle of her messy raven locks spilling over her sun-warmed shoulders. He had very nearly told her that her presence was a beacon to him. That the anchor was his, that her persistence in keeping it close to him was all that had sustained his mind, that without her he might not still exist exactly as he did. Even relented as it was the sickening device wrapped around his ankle was still very uncomfortable, but endurable. When they made it out of this place it would need to be studied, rarely had he come across such effective underestimations. He settled himself closer at her side, bodily shielding her from their captors even if she could not see it, threading his fingers through her hair to gently rub the back of her neck as she lost her battle with concealed grief, sobbing quietly into her knees.

They had been moved to some sort of subdued mess hall near the stairs to the dungeon-esque lower level. One wall was lined with small square tables with two chairs a side, high flat glass windows cast a fiery hued sunset upon the grim muraled wall opposite. It was curiously modest for Orlesian architecture, especially that of a Chantry- for surely that's what this building was. He supposed it was possible that the sprawling painting of Andraste's violent end could signify something else, it was sometimes difficult to tell with humans. The roaring hearth at the other end of the narrow room could be felt even in their far corner. Their mattress was little more than a glorified bed roll, but it was quite a step up from what he had woken to. Damp stone, musty earth, iron bars threatening to rust... his heart unconscious and bleeding from the temple.

He had dared to demand enough use of mana to heal her, for her to wake before he would perform the misguided duty they laid out before him. Laughing outright that they'd mistaken his mark of power for their blind faith, that in a roundabout way this was entirely his own fault. It was horrifically fitting. Though to be fair- a well of souls was not too far from a proper comparison. He was thankful they allowed his request- though this 'Matron' had made it known it was the last one they would suffer. Of course that was not to say he had not already determined careful ways to fuck with them else wise. That when he began to take her, their voices rose up in chant, he made sure his rose up louder in Elvhen. Reciting a lexicon on debauchery he'd memorized in his youth until he claimed her mouth with his own.

Now, though their worshipful audience was smaller, and did not include the crone, but her flock, he sat proudly naked, holding eye contact with any of their captors who dared look his way. Occasionally he ran a hand down the length of his form, from chest to cock, a tug or two to wake his loins. He took small pleasure in his victory as they looked away, deeply discomforted. Yet, it wasn't without a drawback as obvious as his lingering erection.

He had not truly expected to ever give in to the urge to take her completely. He had plans of course, to share her pleasure, to make use of his hands, his mouth... His magic. Though he maintained doubts that she would be content to stop there, or _worse_ , that she would wish to reciprocate, perhaps _insist_ on it. Her relentless pursuit of ‘fairness’ in judgement and other areas- it was a trait in her he observed long and it ran deep. No, she would not let him give selflessly without something in return. It was that threat that had stopped him from pleasuring her in such a manner sooner. Giving in completely would have been... It would _be_ complicated. He sighed with resignation.

It was now complicated.

It took time to coax her from hiding. The unseeing, grim, red-eyed resignation on her face was just as difficult to endure as her sorrow had been. She cooperated with a meekness that wounded him while he fed her slowly, alternating small bites with tipping the mug of water to her lips.

Of all the things he had gotten himself into recently. This one worried him the most. What they wanted of him... It was dangerously reminiscent of a much more prideful man. A handsome man wrought with power, who wore his skill and influence like a crown, who had women and men alike falling at his feet. His exploits had always been unusual among the people, far more common among the Forgotten- but many of the people found themselves curious, and he could hardly deny such... _Thirsts_... for knowledge. After all, despite his respect for Wisdom, Experience always was the better teacher. Their voices rising up in wanton moans, begging him for his favor, entreating him to cast his spells and sow his gift upon them echoed potently in his thoughts. He wasn't that man anymore, was he? He'd left it all behind when... When he learned the truth, when he rose up in defiance. He cast off his looks, melted into the shadows and began casting a different sort of spell. _Though..._ He chuckled darkly.

He had always been in the business of release.

He wiped a stray tear from her cheek, watching her eyes settle on a spot just over his shoulder, giving a slight nod of thanks before taking his offered roll of bread, bringing it to her lips. Her eyes bore a haze, no longer their honeyed brilliance, but a tarnished gold. It was his doing. After the Templars had brought him around, relented the inhibitor enough to place him in his right mind and give him the barest caress of mana, the crone promptly demanded he cast a spell to blind her. They only had the herbs to dampen her hearing. So he had made his demand in exchange and the reluctant deal was struck, more of his mana made available for a brief moment. At sword point and in apparent peril of returning to that mindless void he cast to heal and blind as gently as he could, hoping that perhaps if she did not have to see what he would need to do to her... that somehow she could still trust him when this was all over.

And he _was_ glad she hadn't been able to see him while he took her, but for more than just the reasons he had anticipated. Yet, not nearly as glad as he was that she had not been able to hear the truly embarrassing sounds he had made. It was nothing like what he expected, and though he knew sex would be different without the use of his magic, this side of the Veil changed how it felt... _drastically_. Their first kiss had been one thing, dreams always felt more real to him and it had been ages since he had indulged in such impulse. While awake it was somehow easier to get carried away. But _this_ , it was real in an entirely more visceral way, and completely embarrassing. His face had burned with more than a lustful blush- it burned with shame. He was well aroused and more than ready at the barest thought of claiming her, but she... He had no magic, no influence to curate arousal in her from afar. Touch appeared to be the only thing left to him, and as much as he wished to blame that travesty of copulation on their impatient jailers, HE hadn't prepared her correctly.

Then there was the shock, the potency of their joining coursing through his nerves, but none of the mental aspect- he felt blind to her pleasure, unable to feel it in her. All he had to go on was her expressions, the muted sounds she made, the way her body begged against his. It was fascinating and he found himself wanting nothing more than to do it again... surely there were things he missed the first time, things he could do better. Perhaps he would get used to it and be able to focus, rather than succumb to that primal urge that came over him, his movements taking on a mind of their own. Perhaps next time he would last longer... or was that how long such things lasted in this state? It was a wonder they ever accomplished anything, plagued with chasing such a short lived high, only for the pervasive need to return a short while later. And _linger_ without his magic to suppress it... Presumably until dealt with.

Closing his eyes tightly, he tipped his head back against the wall and took a deep breath to let it go slowly. Now was not the time to get carried away. But it was worse than that. It was too late to hope for better. He'd given in, taken her physically, tasted the song of her pleasure, given her _his_. There was no going back from this, and that was but a pale shadow of what truly terrified him.

He did not _wish_ to go back from this.

~~=~~

 _Silent._  
  
The hall was finally silent. The hasty measured ring of hammer on metal had ceased. One thing was clear to him- They had not been prepared to take them. The overheard whispers hours before now made sense. The Templars that came upon them had been scouts, shadowing them for a future mission, but the opportunity they presented so far from camp had been too good to pass up. Seemingly explaining why they had been left largely alone for the remainder of that day and so far the entire night that followed while the sound of hammers on metal rang through the stone. It seemed the strangeness of their sleeping area in the hall was impromptu, and their captors endeavored to fix that with haste.  
  
Two Templars stood stationed at the doors on opposing ends of the long room. The moon had risen through the high windows and beyond. The hearth had burned low but the warmth remained, aided by a scratchy woolen blanket afforded to them on the Matron's order. A pitcher of water sat at one end of their flimsy mattress, a chamber pot further off at the other. But for the vigilant eyes of the armored statues they were left to themselves, chained only to each other. Guards changed, the hearth popped and snapped, _yet_ it was the quiet woman in his arms that dominated his focus.  
  
She was as soft as he often imagined, from her silken locks to her delicate _yet notably_ chilled toes splayed against his shins for warmth. He was no stranger to the subtle sounds she made in sleep, having shared her tent for quite some time... But this was different. To be so close without any barriers, to be the cause of such sounds as she unconsciously responded to his hands and regrettably, the occasional graze of rough metal links. Twin wanderers in the sloping hills and valleys of her kingdom, he mapped her with the thoughtfulness of a cartographer, but with the imagination of a painter. Imagining instead a rounded peak where the soft flat plains lie. No one would refute his claim then- eyes would not wonder at chances, looks that trailed her steps would cease to hope. The only hands on her would be _HIS_. His hand splayed low across her stomach, _possessive_ -  
  
And then it passed as he reached out briefly with what minute amount of mana he had been waiting to amass- A miscalculation on their part with the Inhibitor’s adjustment.  
  
He sighed in relief against her neck. Her scent was still marred by the floral soap, yet he breathed deeply- searching amongst the foreign smell for hers, reveling in it once he found it. Nothing had ignited beneath her skin.  His seed had not settled in her womb.  Yet… Exasperatingly, despite such relief, an unwarranted subversive pang of failure settled in his throat.  A knot to swallow as bitter as his abstinence had been, it bore the all too familiar taste of pride wounded. The silent argument formed by rote- _'The rules were different here. He did not yet understand. The entire potential nuance to such relationships escaped him. He could not indulge, not now.'_   His script did not fit the scenario any longer, he _had_ indulged. Their circumstance had not taken the pleasure of such an act from him, impossible to perform coldly only what was required of him. It left him stumbling blindly, grasping at reason, at Wisdom to find a new excuse to keep such pleasures at bay. His attempts came up empty again and again- sand spilling through his fingers unveiling nothing more than dust and the inevitability of his next failure. He did not enjoy being at such a disadvantage and so ill-prepared. Try as he might to use it as a barrier, even his bitterness failed him- melting away slowly. The sweet air of her presence sapped it from beneath his skin. The roving roll of eyes veiled shut, thick lashes swaying in sleep- she drew his gaze again without even trying.  
  
If he could name the sentiment of her soul, it would be _Atisha_. Peace, for that is what she gave him even though he refused to ask… even though he fell far short of deserving it.  
  
He watched her sleep for a time, fascinated to have something so beautiful something he had long desired in his arms- yet... he could not escape his newfound... _mortality_. Roused from his slumber hard, pressed firmly against her back, his indulgent thoughts had only made it worse. Hard where she was soft, wide awake as she slept- He debated.  Without dreams to hold her she had been sleeping unusually lightly- Starting awake, rolling with bridled fear to face him, bound hands searching for his ear, fingers closing around the point gently.  It was a landmark. Irrefutable evidence that he had not been replaced with another while she slept.  He could scarcely deny such sudden grasps that shook him from the Fade if it allayed her fears.    
  
Their companions had given up their search for the night. She was still dozing and had been for a while.  He extracted himself and the chain that joined his wrists with agonizing care, resettling the blanket over her, deciding to risk relieving the urge.  It was an unlikely hope that it would sufficiently quell the need and permit him to return to sleep, but he couldn't continue, _not like this._  
  
He settled at the end of the mattress to save himself from the cold stone floor, reaching for the empty pot, placing it almost soundlessly in front of his crossed legs. A hollow cough resonated from the helmed man behind him. He bristled at the small reminder of their occupation. It was revolting enough that he had grown accustomed to compensating for his bound hands- he did not need to grow accustomed to such an oppressive audience as well. A look cast over his shoulder confirmed the glint of eyes beyond the metal slit trained on him.  
  
He shoved the pot back to where it belonged, swiveling to the side, giving both Templars an unobstructed view. Propriety be _damned_ , if they were to be treated like animals he could very well be one. He leaned back on one hand, chain pulled tight around his hip as he took up his cock. Wondering with a sharpened sneer if he could reach the nearest set of tables from here as his fingers _squeezed_ , teasing himself with how tightly she gripped him, staring pointedly at the closest Templar. It took troublingly little effort to fall into his deep-rooted obscene pretention, slowly, deliberately stroking from tip to base- spreading the rapidly replenishing fluid to ease his movements. He rolled his hips upward with every other stroke, pushing through his tightened fist to the rhythm of rattling chains.  
  
A half a dozen repetitions under the shade of his lascivious gaze and the Templar finally looked away. The other remained too far away to discern the direction of their interest in the dim light.  It was no matter.  
  
Regular languid rhythm returned, hips stilled as he stroked, his gaze falling across his heart in the soft innocence of sleep. It was too easy to pretend the trail of metal from his ankle didn't connect to hers, covered as she was- she didn't even appear bound. The blanket loosely hid her slender form, and he hastened his effort to return to her side. Imagining her burdened, imagining her as more-  
  
Imagining he had already _succeeded_.  
  
It had the desired effect, hooking him low with pooling tension. The long sustained arousal gave way to the sudden appearance of the precipice. It was quick enough to shock him, his sack tightened, flooded with warmth.  He turned from her with his dishonor, preparing to spend himself, shifting smoothly to sit on his heels to maximize his range. His cock began to throb in hand-  
  
“Solas? Are you...? Um-"

 _"-Oh_.”

The vigorous wet and clinking metal sounds stopped abruptly with a choked off moan followed closely by a slight intake of a shuddering breath.  
  
"Vhenan? You can... _hear?"_  
  
She nodded shallowly, attempting to ignore the distortion in her own voice as she spoke, "It... everything is quiet, muffled? But yes. It would seem so...”  
  
Not even chains rattled in this resurgence of silence. She ventured to break it hoping the return of her hearing hadn't been a fluke.  
  
“I... did not mean to interrupt you."  
  
A heavy sigh met her slightly wounded tone as the mattress shifted with his movements, his voice drawing near. "I did not wish to wake you, but neither could I return to sleep... Like _this_."  
  
"You _could_... No, never mind. Forget it." She ducked her face further beneath the edge of the scratchy blanket, almost certain she could feel his gaze weigh heavily on her.  
  
His return to her side was a shock of heat, his form slid boldly beneath the blanket to press at her back, shifting her _bodily_ with ease to wrap his shackled arms around her, erection prodding prominently in contrast to the flat plane of his body. _Had he not finished?_ It set a slightly startled breath from her as he asked in that infuriatingly measured, yet unmistakably heated intonation. _"Vhenan."_  
  
He wanted to know, he _always_ wanted to know. He constantly got to keep his secrets while hers were fair game. Why had she opened her mouth? She could have just let him continue and pretended she hadn't heard. But as much as she enjoyed his fingers trailing idly across her skin, patiently awaiting her answer, it was the sound of his voice that brought her comfort. It was enough to endure the edge of petulance that surfaced in her own as she answered, hoping it kept him talking. "Wh _at?"_  
  
"If there is something you wish to tell me, I would be interested in hearing it."  
  
Why did he always ask so politely? Her annoyance subsided with her sigh. "I just thought, but you _wouldn't_ want... Not with... _Well._ I what I mean to say is... being _forced_ to... So surely you don't... _Really_ wish to..." At any other time she would have been convinced that she felt a smile bloom against the back of her neck, but she was too terrified by what she'd nearly offered him to indulge such hope. Surely such a request would be in bad taste?

And then he guessed her mind anyways.  
  
"You would like me to take you instead. Is that so? Even after...?”  
  
_Oh_ \- the sound that tore whimpering from her mouth at such words softly whispered, bracketed by the indulgent wet sounds of tongue laving his lips, brushing lightly against her ear. It fell drastically short of the soft sound that chased from him at her immediate answer. _"Yes."_  
  
He shifted slightly, muscles tensed, pressing his hips more firmly to her ass before pulling away, maneuvering to catch his cock between her thighs, thrusting slightly to slide in further. Teasing with that hardened shaft, a source of unbearable heat so close to where she wanted it that she was sure the room had begun to spin in the darkness of her need. The tip of his nose trailed up her ear, sending a potent shiver rippling across her skin. "I would like to hear you say it, Revas."  
  
He shouldn't want such a thing, couldn't dare to have such a thing, yet here it was- his for the taking. Offered up within his grasp, all he needed to do was _reach._..  
  
_" **Please**_. Solas, _if you don’t fuck me right this instant_ -"  
  
She was _unreachable_ , and yet he reached for her. _Unattainable_ , yet his arms closed about her. He had placed her away from himself, separate, special, _rare._ Carefully contained in his mind, in his heart, _she was content to keep to his confines no longer._ He turned her face to swiftly silence her words, accepting her heated demand with a branding kiss. Her sighs had woven through his dreams, her scent woke the pulse of his life, the warmth of her skin drove him to fear the cold of her absence, and the feel of her _touch.._.  
  
She _wanted_ him. She _asked_ for him with all the fire he had come to expect from her. Something deep inside him, dark and shadowed had been set loose _and there was no putting it back._  
  
It slipped out as easily as the soft sounds that rose from his throat as she reached between her thighs to guide him to her soaking sex. _Had she been wanting as badly as he had?_ How had he overlooked that? Instinct seized him as he caught against her entrance, thrusting forward with a quiet groan.     
  
So soaked with need was she- her sex could not offer the resistance to accept him as it had before. It only took a few thrusts to bury himself deep. A grave he would willing dig again and again to the sound of her pleasure muffled against his tongue. He _fought_ \- shook, _demanded_ control of his body. It took all his focus to not spend himself then and there, seated deep, engulfed in the wet heat of her.  
  
He moved. A retreat- _an advance_ , and he knew the battle had been lost.  
  
She couldn't stay quiet- not in hearing the sounds he made, the sounds _they_ made as he thrust ever so slowly into her. His arms tightened around her, a vice, pinned, with him settled deeply in her. She had accepted him easier this time but it was still a large adjustment. Bound, impaled, his rigid cock sent a swift spike of arousal to dull her thoughts, complacent... _intoxicated_.  
  
_If this is what it felt like to be possessed then it wasn't so bad._  
  
He thrust so slowly, and she felt it all – each hitch in his hips as he paused before continuing, the way he swelled within her- growing in girth as he drew close to completion, his grip under her chin tightening as his other hand gripped her breast with fingers that lost their careful touch to cling instead. The slide of scratchy wool registered only vaguely to the sudden baring of their skin, the blanket no longer concealed them but she couldn't care. Her hands had long settled between her thighs, stroking her clit nearly frictionless in time to his movements. Trying to pace herself with him, _she was so close_.  
  
Soft vulnerable sounds fell from his lips, the bridge of his nose pressed hard against her temple as he rocked into her- having failed to muffle them lightly bitten into her skin. He gripped her so tightly against his chest she could not move much to meet him, as if he feared that if she did it would break him. The thought terrified her before arousal swallowed it up- Neither of them were in control of this. Those soft needsome noises almost undid her- and then he paused with a stillness that was forced, _unnatural_.  His body tense, he trailed off into a sharp frantic pant until she begged him, “Please, Solas.  _Please_ don’t stop.” Her surprise at his immediate compliance was quickly overwritten by the sudden unrelenting pace he took up, his grasp softening as if remembering how this was supposed to go.     
  
In only a matter of seconds at the mercy of his quickened pace did she unravel around him. The force of his hips had her gasping his name, fingers pressed hard to the bundle of nerves as pleasure rolled through her- it pulled him in- and he pushed in _deeper._  
  
His grasp relented as she curled forward, drawn into such pleasure arcing in rolling waves. Only his chain kept her from escaping him completely. He followed almost immediately, recapturing her, curling around her as he spilled with a heavy throb of his length. The flush of heat flooded her.  
  
It made her orgasm more potent, the sensation of him flexing within her coaxed a loud moan from her throat, one he was quick to quell on the trail end of his own.  Fingers graced her lips lightly as he spoke with a breathless ardor, "Shhh _Vhenan_ , I have you."  
  
_Those words only made it worse._  
  
All at once she saw herself pinioned as he took her from behind, her body burdened with his favor, succumbed to his care, his protection.  Her breasts swaying heavily, beginning to leak as his hips set her curves in motion.  It was not difficult to imagine the things he might growl against her neck.  It was not difficult to imagine the life they could create amid the chaos that seemed to follow in their wake.    
  
She did not need to imagine how badly she wanted it, against all reason.  
  
Her fingers still held possession over her clit and with a well-placed press and inward clench she rolled right over the edge into another orgasm.  A startled groan barely muffled against her neck preceded the full body twitch as Solas withdrew his softening cock- yet held her tightly while she curled ever inward. But it was too late, the illusion had shattered with his retreat.  
  
Pleasure quickly dropped off into a profound sense of contentment and a core deep ache.  Each small movement was heralded by the protest of little muscles she seldom had the chance to use.  She was struck then by the deepest longing to be back in her room in Skyhold.  To be safe, truly safe in Solas' embrace, to know what would meet them with waking, and to be able to reach him in dreams- To not be at the mercy of anything but themselves as they explored this new aspect of their relationship. To be honest with herself though, she wanted the familiar setting to examine the unfamiliar thoughts that kept seizing her in the throes of the moment.  It sent a shiver through her that could easily be played off by the cooling sweat that dampened their skin.    
  
She'd thought Solas already asleep, so slow was his breath, so deeply was he relaxed around her- but he shifted, reaching with effort until he met the end of his chain, barely grasping the corner of the woolen blanket. He pulled it up over them both before settling in again with a deep sigh as his face came to rest at the back of her neck.  Unperturbed by the sweat still beading beneath the heat of his breath, he was relaxed in a way that escaped her. Did none of this bother him? Her own thoughts were a mess, and sleep would elude her for a time yet if she dwelled on them. She needed to say... _Something_. Perhaps he was so close to dreaming he wouldn't press the issue too far if she slipped up? But what could she say? This wasn't her fault- so why did she feel the need to apologize for it?  
  
Her restlessness didn't go unnoticed.  
  
“ _Ma lath_ , you are bothered. What is on your mind?”  
  
_“Everything.”_

All her wind that could have been used to elaborate left her in an exasperated rush instead. She started over quieter, with a new breath. “I don't know what to do, how to handle this, any of it. I _should_ be fighting back, not succumbing meekly. I should be… _stronger_ than this. But with these thoughts… I can’t…” She shuddered, trying again. “I am just glad you are with me Solas. If it was someone else I _don't._..” A bubble of unwanted grief overcame her, forcing her to swallow the rest of her words, slamming her bound wrists against the mattress. _What was wrong with her?_ She never succumbed like this. Her moods _never_ shifted so chaotically.  
  
_“Shhh..._ it is alright Revas." He moved to pull her in closer, almost a possessive gesture before he continued quietly with his ear pressed to hers. "I am glad to be with you, despite the circumstance. This is not the way I would have wanted this to happen, but I do not regret what we have done.”  
  
So he had wanted this? He didn’t regret laying with her?  Was it more than an act to him? The interest that rose in her voice was perhaps a touch too blatant. “ _Oh?_ How would you have wanted this to happen?”  
  
He pressed a small kiss to the sensitive skin beneath her ear, retreating only enough to lay at her back once more. It was all at once dismissive and reassuring. “That is a conversation for another time. I expect we will be tasked to... _perform_... later.  We should find what rest we can.”  
  
She sighed heavily, he had a point.  Now was hardly the time for soul-searching and leading questions. "I'm sorry- I... _you’re right_. I don't know what's gotten into me."    
  
A long quiet pause had her attempting to match her still frantic breaths to his more measured cadence.  And just when she thought he'd finally dropped off, he answered.  
  
  
  
"I do."    
  
She _froze_ , terrified he'd caught on to her fantasies, that she had let something obvious slip. But then a drowsy, almost inaudible chuckle ending with a breathy intake unsettled the damp hairs down the back of her neck, and she caught on- It was _HIM_.  _HE_ had gotten into her. She reflexively tried to cross her arms and failure came with the dull clink of chains.  
  
"You're _dreadful_."  
  
The slight shift of metal on metal, the hollowed labored breaths rattling in the helms of their Templar guards was easily drowned out as the hall echoed with their quiet laughter. It was enough to pretend for a moment, that they were anywhere but here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > "-the world will be thrown into chaos greater than the trials we now face." 
> 
> I mean, she's not _wrong_.
> 
> Someday someone is going to google the passage of the Chant of Light that is the title, and this fic is going to pop up- I won't know when it happens, but I'll be laughing about it somewhere in a darkened corner. Of that you can be sure of.
> 
> This happened because I am writing for a different kink(preg), and because of how it plays out _im_ preg isn't part of it... annnnnd I wanted to see how that might go. I mean wow, look! A slightly more normal kink this time! (this is normal... right?) That's cause to celebrate! 
> 
>  
> 
> May be a bit before the next chapter goes up. I'm writing more to it than originally planned, still only 2 chapters but like 10-11k words a piece.


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